It had been a whirlwind since Snowkit was diagnosed by Cinderpelt. In the time between then and now, Brackenfur fought very hard with Fireheart to speak with Bluestar about Snowkit's situation. When he finally got the audience he was seeking, after much deliberation, many moonhigh patrols, and a lot of prickled pelts, his leader insisted that it didn't even matter; none of it mattered. Worryingly, Bluestar gave up towards the end of the discussion and had lashed out at the young tom, saying if he was going to be so insistent he could do whatever he wanted. You won't listen to me anyway, you're just one of a pack of traitors. The words still stung. Over what seemed like endless sunrises, Brackenfur and Speckletail sat in the far corner of the nursery, trying to decide how to go about teaching her kit. They came up with many ideas, but the one they kept returning to was one that Brackenfur proposed; creating signals that meant things to Snowkit.
After they decided on the plan, they spent several more days deciding what Snowkit should learn first - Speckletail insisted he learn some herbs, because if he was to be of true use to the clan, it would most likely be as help to the medicine cat. So, they'd decided on some common herbs, and Brackenfur asked his sister for small samples. Cinderpelt was uncharacteristically skeptical, but she agreed to help her brother anyway. After all of this, today was the day he was to begin training the small deaf kit.
He knew his words went unheeded. There was nothing he could say to make the young white kit understand the meaning behind his meows, and he could feel his pelt burn hot with embarrassment as he spoke in broken sentences, constantly cutting himself off in the middle of camp where every cat could hear his blunders. From the nursery, a pair of amber eyes looked upon him with some sort of faint hope, and that was enough to fuel the young tom to continue. Out in front of him sat several prey species, some moss, and various herbs he borrowed from Cinderpelt. Before him, blinking slowly sat the fuzzy white Snowkit, his head tilted in confusion as he surveyed the scene before him. I have to make you understand, Brackenfur thought, thinking back to the moments he'd seen Speckletail signaling to her kit with her tail. It gave him an idea; what if he could teach Snowkit signals for other things? Hesitantly, Brackenfur stood, looking directly to the young tom before motioning with his tail towards a mouse. Hesitantly, he dipped one ear as far as he could without moving the other, and watched for Snowkit's reaction.
For a moment, Brackenfur's doubt crawled over his pelt. He looked over to the fresh kill pile, where Brindleface and Frostfur were curled up, sharing tongues and glancing towards him every so often while Ashpaw tore off pieces of mouse, laying close to his mother. Distantly, Brackenfur saw Fernpaw and Darkstripe discussing what they were going to be doing that day. A pang of regret shot through him, realizing that Snowkit would never get such a chance, even if he was ever a 'paw. The thought faded quickly as Brackenfur's gaze fell to the white tom. He was staring so intently, clearly looking for the meaning. He was smart, if a bit of a queen's kit, and he was like any wild born kitten. All he wanted to do was play, and learn. Brackenfur would teach him, if it meant the wrath of Bluestar herself for a few missed patrols.
Once again, Brackenfur leaned down to nose at the mouse, dipping the same ear deeply once more. His only response was a stare, though something told him that Snowkit was indeed paying attention. "Mouse." He topped off several more repeats of the ear motion with several slow, drawn out sayings of the proper name. Brackenfur moved down the line, repeating what he did for other things: a left ear fully down for mice and other small rodents, right ear fully down for birds, though he gave each of them a separate name when he called them. Satisfied with the associations he'd created, he moved on to the herbs. They were common ones, but Brackenfur couldn't help feeling he wasn't the best cat for this. He glanced towards his sister's den, inwardly hoping that if today was successful he would be able to sway her to help him. The lineup he gathered was small: chervil, comfrey, dock, horsetail, and cobwebs. Using the same method he had before, Brackenfur moved down the line, though this time he assigned each herb its own signal. Chervil was a tail lifted high over the back, like some of the twoleg's dog's tails were. Comfrey was a front right paw raised. Dock was a front left paw raised. Horsetail was a back right paw raised. Cobwebs were a back left paw raised.
The young warrior beckoned Snowkit closer, then repeated the signs for every single object, as well as calling them by their proper names. All the while, Snowkit was incredibly patient with him, and Brackenfur was becoming increasingly impressed with the young cat's intelligence. Though he had no words to say, Snowkit seemed to be soaking all of this in like a piece of moss, if he were to assume his idea was working. How could Bluestar so easily write off such an intelligent young cat? Brackenfur wondered as they began the third round of signal training for the herbs. This time, he let Snowkit sniff each one before calling his attention back for the next herb. I mean, of course he'll never be a full warrior, but… that doesn't mean he doesn't have some sort of purpose here, right? Brackenfur felt a pang of anger at the thought, moving on to the final medicine, cobwebs, for the final time today. A leader's word is law, but… we're supposed to challenge our leaders if they're hurting our clan. Is denying a kit who could grow up to be something great hurting our clan enough for me to defy Bluestar like this? Thoughts swum in the tom's head as he called the cobwebs for the final time. Or is Bluestar right, and I'm in the wrong? If this doesn't work… does Snowkit truly have a place in Thunderclan?
Every cat has a place in this world, Brackenfur… Brackenfur felt his blood run cold as a voice brushed past him. Turning rather quickly in the direction of the voice, his eyes fell upon a she-cat he had not seen for many seasons, though he never got to see her so young in the world of the living. Though diluted by the starry sheen, her tabby pelt and orange tail were unmistakable. "Rosetail…?" Memories of his kithood flooded back to him, of being curled up between Dappletail and Rosetail, hearing stories of bygone moons while Patchpelt and Halftail interrupted, insisting their version of every battle was exactly what happened. Awash with the nostalgia for a long moment, Brackenfur almost missed the second figure who appeared; this time, a huge golden tabby with thick neck fur. Blinking, Brackenfur's mind raced to remember the figure, though only one memory came to his mind: a long vigil sat by the entire clan, all in the name of a true warrior, Lionheart. Regret panged in his heart that he had remembered Rosetail so quickly and his own father held only a sole memory in his mind. "Lionheart…" He murmured, moving as if to stand, but as he did so, the two figures vanished into thin air, though their scent still lingered, drifting towards him on the wind. Upset, Brackenfur looked to Snowkit, who was staring at him in pure confusion. How long was I staring? He glanced once more to the fresh kill pile, only to see his mother half-standing, looking at him in worry. Had she seen what he saw, or did he really speak into nothing more than thin air?
"Snowkit." Brackenfur motioned his tail towards the small kit, attempting to make it look like he was calling the tom's name the entire time. Looking skeptical, but satiated, Frostfur curled up again, the two she-cats drifting towards dreams in the warm afternoon sun. Suddenly, an idea sparked in Brackenfur's mind. Assuming Rosetail and Lionheart were trying to tell him that his plan was indeed working, perhaps… "Snowkit." Brackenfur repeated, leaning his muzzle down so the young kit could see him moving it. He motioned to him with his tail once more. He repeated the process several more times just as he did before, always making sure Snowkit was looking, before he stood and moved away. He looked back to the young white tom, calling for him.
The kit looked at him in confusion for a brief moment, but stood hesitantly and walked over to him. Brackenfur could practically feel his heart leap from his chest. "Well done!" He meowed, though he knew it had no meaning. He leaned down to lick the kit's forehead, nudging him gently with his nose. Snowkit purred, bumping Brackenfur's lowered chin with the top of his head. Elated, Brackenfur stood, bounding over to the other side of the clearing, to the fresh kill pile, nearly tripping over Ashpaw in the process.
"Ouch!" The young apprentice yowled, lifting his tail close to his body. Brackenfur apologized, but the yowl already called the attention of several others, including his mother and Brindleface. The two she-cats looked at him, mildly annoyed. A bit annoyed at their annoyance, Brackenfur wondered why the two warriors and one apprentice couldn't just go to work already.
"Mother," Brackenfur hopped over to her, shaking away his irritations. "You have to watch this!" He turned his attention to Snowkit, hoping deeply that his experiment would work. "Ravenkit!" He called, and Snowkit tilted his head, though he didn't move. "Thornkit?" Brackenfur tried again, although by this time he had the attention of most cats in camp, including Speckletail, who emerged from her the nursery, hope washing off of her in waves. Snowkit seemed a bit surprised at all the sudden attention, looking around in confusion, before settling his sights on Brackenfur once more. "Snowkit!" At this call, Snowkit's ears perked up, and he stood quickly, tumbling over to the golden tabby tom, practically tripping over himself in an attempt to reach his newfound mentor. The camp was silent as Brackenfur praised the small kit, rubbing his cheek against the top of the tom's head. Brindleface was the first to speak, in her quiet, forever-queen-like tone.
"Well, will you look at that." She mused, turning to speak to Frostfur, though the she-cat was turned to her son now, blue eyes round as the moon.
"How did you do this, Brackenfur?" She questioned, standing slowly, giving her kit's cheek a quick lick. "I know it's not even a dent in what he'll have to learn to be of service to the clan, but… we thought…" She drifted off, though her words did not need to be said to be conveyed.
"I… it's just what any cat should do," Brackenfur looked down to Snowkit, letting out a tiny mrrow of amusement. "I know it's not something that's part of the code, but… it should be. Every cat has something to offer to the clan; we must find this offer in each cat, and foster it, however small or large." The camp seemed still once more at his words, cats gazing at him as if he was a Starclan cat himself, glowing as Rosetail and Lionheart were when they appeared. Slowly and silently, every cat went back to what they had been doing, though the camp remained eerily still. Unfazed by this, Snowkit did not lose his attention towards Brackenfur, and as the tom stood and motioned for the kit to follow with his tail, the white cat did so without question.
The two of them headed towards the medicine cat den, though Brackenfur found it solemn as he entered. He sought out Cinderpelt, finding the dark grey she-cat going over her herbs in silence. "Cinderpelt?" He questioned, watching the she-cat jump at the sudden noise, spinning around angrily, only to calm when she realized who it was.
"I saw your progress just now," Cinderpelt confessed without so much as a greeting. "I'll confess, I didn't think you would be able to do anything with him, but it seems he has some special gift for paying attention. If only the other kits could pay attention so well!" Cinderpelt smiled warmly down at the young white kit, who was chasing a dried leaf around the medicine cat's den.
"Cinderpelt," Brackenfur seemed a bit more serious now. "I have a question for you, about… Starclan, I suppose."
"Oh?" Cinderpelt's ears perked up, and she pried herself out of the small storage space, sitting down before the tabby tom, giving her chest a few quick licks. "Don't tell me you're questioning Starclan too," Cinderpelt's eyes narrowed.
"Questioning Starclan?" Brackenfur's voice was incredulous. "I have no authority to do such a thing. That's not the sort of help I need, Cinderpelt."
"Well, get on with it, then," Cinderpelt's tone was a bit irritated, but Brackenfur knew there was some hint of amusement there. "I'm going to get as old as Starclan waiting for you to speak up!"
Brackenfur's pelt prickled with embarrassment, and he suddenly felt quite small. Normal cats such as himself did not receive messages from Starclan; that was something for medicine cats, for leaders. "I… just now, when I was training Snowkit," Brackenfur looked to his paws, shuffling them a bit, nudging a pebble with a claw. "I saw Redtail and Lionheart, Cinderpelt. Redtail was so close… she whispered to me."
The amusement in his sister's face faded almost immediately. Seeming to take it more seriously, Cinderpelt stood and walked past him, making sure there were no cats approaching, before ducking back into her den, ignoring Snowkit's presence. "What have they told you?"
Brackenfur felt his hackles raise a bit in nervousness as he watched his sibling slink around her den, regret enveloping his gut as he realized perhaps this was something Redtail and Lionheart meant only for him. She's my sister – and more than that, my medicine cat, Brackenfur reassured himself, they would know I would want to tell her, wouldn't they? Starclan knows everything, after all. The tabby tom struggled internally whether to lie or not, though shaking the thoughts away, he couldn't imagine why he would feel the need to lie. He could share anything with Cinderpelt. "Every cat has a place in this world, Brackenfur… That's what Rosetail told me. She and Lionheart appeared after that, and I – I tried to move towards them, but they vanished."
Cinderpelt's shoulders relaxed almost immediately. She flicked Brackenfur's nose with her tail, eyes gleaming with amusement. "You had me worried there for a second, Brackenfur. I thought you'd heard some dire prophecy! You shouldn't scare your dear sibling like that." Cinderpelt let out a soft mrrow of laughter, standing with a tall stretch. "I think Rosetail and Lionheart were just trying to tell you they approve of your choice in caring for young Snowkit here," Cinderpelt nodded, then added, in a moment of seriousness, "but if you see any more signs or have any strange dreams, tell me, okay?"
Brackenfur dipped his head, pelt hot with embarrassment. He felt silly having come to the medicine cat for a seemingly benign visit by Starclan. "Yes, Cinderpelt," he mewed, a bit defeated. The tabby stood, calling for Snowkit, who came rushing to his side. "Thank you, Cinderpelt."
"Any time, Brackenfur." Cinderpelt meowed, waving him off with her tail. She returned to her herb storage.
Brackenfur felt his nest crinkle under him as he rolled around, attempting to find a comfortable spot to sleep. The day was been a long one, showing Snowkit various things and what they did, though he hadn't made signals for any more of them. He showed Snowkit where the moss and ferns grew, just outside of camp, and then showed him how to take these and make nests for the elders. He'd also used some prey from the fresh kill pile in order to teach Snowkit some hunting techniques, though he ensured Snowkit never actually touched the prey, as playing with prey was against the warrior code. After, he and Snowkit shared a meal together with Speckletail. The queen couldn't stop herself from fawning over the two of them, as if Brackenfur was one of her own as well. It made him a little embarrassed, and he certainly didn't miss Dappletail and One-Eye letting out loud mrrows at his expense. Still, Brackenfur enjoyed the attention; with Cinderpelt now a medicine cat, Fireheart busy being a mentor and deputy, Graystripe gone to Riverclan, and Dustpelt busy with Ashpaw as well as his own warrior duties, Brackenfur felt a little left behind. It seemed as if his clan life was at a standstill, though Snowkit and Speckletail were breathing new life into it. Rolling over, Brackenfur remembered how grateful Speckletail had been as she ushered Snowkit back into the nursery. He was grateful he didn't have to teach her the signals as well; the two cats planned it together, and most of the signs were been Speckletail's idea originally. Brackenfur swished his tail around the edge of his nest, as if he was beckoning sleep.
"Would you lay still?" The gruff hiss caused Brackenfur to jump a bit, eyes searching for who was speaking in the vast darkness of the den. His gaze fell upon two cats; a very gruff looking Longtail, and a very exhausted looking Dustpelt. Longtail addressed him again. "Some of us have a dawn patrol to attend, thank you very much. Starclan help us, you're wriggling around like you have fleas!" The word fleas awoke several more warriors, drowsy and concerned.
"Fleas?" Brindleface mewed, sitting up with wide eyes. "Are there fleas in here?" She nudged Frostfur, who was asleep in a nest over from her own. "Frostfur – Longtail said something about fleas!"
"Who's got fleas?" Whitestorm blinked awake, yawning as he stretched out his front paws. "Hunting gets any worse, and you might be thankful someone brought fleas into camp. We'll feast like we're in Starclan this leaf-bare!" Whitestorm's nose crinkled in amusement, his yellow eyes practically glowing in the dark den. At this, the den arose in loud meows of laughter, though Longtail still seemed a bit irritated. Even the grouchy tabby couldn't deny the fact that it was amusing though, and he joined in after a bit of resistance. The pale tabby turned his attention back to Brackenfur, still mildly annoyed, but now with a much more humored tone.
"See what happens when you toss and turn all night, hm, Brackenfur? You wake the whole clan up with your racket! If Mousefur, Sandstorm, or Darkstripe were here… they'd claw your tail off for making such a racket." With that, the five warriors all curled up tightly in their nests again, drifting off almost instantly as if nothing had happened.
Remaining rather silent the whole time, Brackenfur still felt troubled, and although his body and mind were begging for sleep, he stood. He meandered out of the warrior's den, careful to not re-wake any of his den mates, and stepped out into the pale moonlight. He gazed up to Silverpelt, his heart aching for reasons he couldn't comprehend. The young warrior never felt he had so much importance in the clan before, and vaguely, he wondered if the other warriors felt their roles in Thunderclan mattered so much. They should. Brackenfur mused, letting out a long breath. Even if they're not the best hunter, or fighter… every single cat here has something to offer. He thought to Mousefur, whose brown tabby coat made her the bane of every ground critter's existence. She was the best mouse hunter he knew, Brackenfur decided, and her name was fitting. There was Longtail, whose long tail made him the best tree climber and ground runner Brackenfur had ever seen in his life. He thought to Brindleface, perfect for hunting in at Snakerocks and Sunningrocks. So was Darkstripe, with the added benefit of being darker. Perfect for night hunting at Sunningrocks, Brackenfur thought to himself. Every cat was born with something to offer to the clan – so why were they not being organized in a way that utilized them to the best of their abilities?
"It doesn't quite make sense, does it?" Brackenfur's hackles shot up as a voice appeared next to him, and he craned his neck to look without moving, only to see Rosetail once again. Relaxing slightly, the young tabby stood, turning to the starry she-cat, looking troubled. "There hasn't been a cat who thinks like you for many generations, Brackenfur. At least… not here in the forest." Lionheart appeared next to the once-elder, gazing over his son for a moment in silence as if he was trying to take in all the moons he missed in the waking world through just Brackenfur's appearance.
"Every cat has something to offer to our clan," Lionheart continued, "but sometimes these talents can be washed away by the idea that every cat needs to do the same thing every other cat can do to be a good warrior and get into Starclan." Lionheart shook his head, his thick fur ruffling. "If it was true that to be a good warrior you had to do absolutely everything, we wouldn't let kits into Starclan in the first place, nor apprentices."
"That's right," Rosetail interjected, licking her paw. "The warrior code says nothing about having to do every duty to be of service or value to your clan. There are some…" Rosetail paused, her face twisted as if she were biting back some painful memory. "There are some cats out there who think if you aren't the best at everything, you aren't worthwhile. Who think Clan life should be nothing but bloodshed – of both cat and of prey. I'm here to make up for the mistakes of my blood," Rosetail added, a bit fiercely, though Brackenfur hadn't the faintest clue what she meant.
"A new time is coming to the clan, Brackenfur. You are a wise, loyal, and thoughtful cat… we can't be here for much longer, but heed my words, young warrior: the snow drifts to Highstones. Starclan is calling." The two cats began to fade, and Brackenfur's eyes widened in alarm.
"No – Lionheart! Rosetail! Please!" The young warrior pleaded rather hoarsely, rushing forward in an attempt to catch the fading visions. As he reached them, though, the two starry cats vanished completely, leaving only scents with vague memories for Brackenfur to mourn over. The snow drifts to Highstones. Starclan is calling. Brackenfur's heart pounded in his ears, anger and confusion washing over him in intense waves. He'd never felt so lost, so unprotected, so out of the loop. There was nothing a warrior couldn't do without the code; but a change? A change he would have some part in? Living above a code?
Brackenfur looked around the camp, which was silent as stone. He knew outside the tunnel, Sandstorm and Mousefur were standing, and if he left they would certainly ask questions. Knowing Sandstorm, too, Fireheart would know about it as soon as the moonhigh patrol returned. Inwardly, Brackenfur wondered if he couldn't get away with saying he was going to join them, with a nonexistent message for Fernpaw from Ashpaw. Though, at the moment, he really didn't want to deal with Darkstripe's taunting over Snowkit. His eyes finally fell upon the medicine cat den, and he hoped his sister was still awake. Taking a deep breath, he padded over to it, blood running a bit cold as he caught sight of two bright blue eyes staring at him from Bluestar's den. Swallowing hard, Brackenfur pulled himself away from the sight, assuming his leader heard him calling Rosetail and Lionheart's names and become curious.
Pushing forward, he brushed past the tendrils covering the entrance to Cinderpelt's den, relieved to find the young she-cat still awake and gazing down to a piece of fresh kill. "Hello, Brackenfur." Cinderpelt greeted, trying to sound warm, though it came out as simply troubled.
"Cinderpelt?" Brackenfur slunk a bit closer. "Are you oka-" Brackenfur stopped in his tracks when he noticed the mouse laying at her feet. It was covered in scratches and mangled – far worse than what any respectable warrior would have done to catch a piece of prey. Some of its wounds, though, almost looked as if Cinderpelt were treating it – its wounds filled with, at least what Brackenfur could scent, chervil, comfrey, dock, and horsetail. Brackenfur felt a shudder run through him as he moved closer, one paw at a time, only just then noticing the cobwebs covering some of the wounds, along with bits and pieces of bracken. His heart skipped several nonconsecutive beats.
"I was asleep, but I smelt mouse in my dream, and it woke me up… I thought maybe the midnight patrol returned to camp and Fernpaw brought me a mouse, but…" Cinderpelt sounded a bit defeated, looking to Brackenfur. "Did you see Rosetail and Lionheart again?" She inquired, seeming a bit hopeful, though she sounded as if she wasn't expecting much.
"I- I did!" Brackenfur nodded, moving up to sit beside her, though it was clear the mouse was making him uncomfortable. "They appeared to me and… well, they said a lot of things. But Lionheart said the last thing: the snow drifts to Highstones. Starclan is calling. Rosetail said she needed to make up for her blood."
Cinderpelt seemed to consider, leaning against her brother a bit. "I need to speak with Bluestar. Will you please move this mouse into my storage while I'm gone?" Cinderpelt meowed, bumping her brother's shoulder with her forehead gently before standing and disappearing off into the clearing. Brackenfur nodded, though there was no cat to see, and picked up the mouse as gingerly as if he were holding a kit. He wormed his way into Cinderpelt's storage unit, wondering how on earth Yellowfang ever managed to make it in here. Next to the entrance, he placed the mouse, his nose crinkling in disgust as the taste of its herb filled wounds hit his mouth. He entered the main den once more, waiting for what seemed like ages until his sister returned, looking fretful. She paced back and forth for a moment before turning back to her brother.
"Bluestar will be apprenticing Snowkit to you as soon as the sun rises. Tomorrow – as in, the day after that, you two will travel with me to Highstones. You must speak to Starclan." Cinderpelt's gaze fell to the cold stone floor of the cave. "I have never heard of a cat who wasn't a leader, deputy, or medicine cat using the Moonstone… but Starclan is calling you."
Brackenfur's eyes widened with shock. "What?"